The power of open water and journaling
A personal reflection on how swimming and journaling helped deepen my self awareness and presence
In this fast paced, ego driven, relentlessly demanding world , it is no surprise there in an increase in overwhelm, stress, anxiety, a chronic sense of fatigue and exhaustion be it physical, mental, emotional or spiritual. I feel endlessly bombarded by demands and expectations, pinned down by to do lists I can never achieve and so much white noise it is debilitating. Value is measured through the acquisition of material goods and the amount of comfort and convenience in our lifestyles, as we march from our home to the car, to the office, back to the car and our homes only to repeat again. It feels like we've divorced ourselves from being responsible for our path and experience, as we numb our way through this one only life we have.
I yearned for an escape from this meaningless routine and craved connection with meaning, my self, people. I found water again as I shedded the cobwebs of COVID lockdowns in Melbourne. I have been a swimmer most of my life, but when I say again, I mean I was finally ready for the water to teach me. To teach me how to be present, connected and remind me what it is like to feel again. Mining my experience through journaling has deepened, almost detailed the magic of this practice and helped solidify my learnings.
Even though I love open water swimming, there is always resistance, an internal fight. There is not one morning where my brain does not transform into a special forces ninja whose sole purpose is to keep me in bed. I am terrified of jelly fish and sharks. Ever since I can remember this haunting feeling visits me, one where I am submerged and not able to breathe in a body of water so vast my mind cannot comprehend.
But I here I am, at the waters edge. I could pack up and go back home only to feel I have drowned in another way. Then there is the discomfort that the cold brings. I have to bring reason to my internal dialogue and rationalise the resistance and fears I hold about the task ahead- “It is not jelly fish season, the cold is temporary before it feels wonderful, I have done my homework, observed the conditions….”. I come to reason I have no choice really. No choice and no excuses but to accept the now. I have no choice but to surrender and just get in.
Bermagui Blue Pool, NSW
All of a sudden I can hear the waves. It is only because I have surrendered I have the opportunity to accept the cold for what it is; to allow my self to experience it first hand, as opposed to letting the screaming voices in my head shouting IT IS COOOOOOLD to dictate what happens! What does the cold water actually feel like? Is it as bad as my head is making it out to be? As it first touches my toes and feet they seems to come alive, like snapping awake and there is a referred sense of awareness spreading to the rest of my body as a warning of what is about to come. Inch by inch the intensity rises and the warning becomes an alarm as I feel the water lapping my waist. My arms are folded tightly across my chest as though they have any chance of keeping my underarms warm. The cold now travels to the back of my neck and my arms finally surrender and open wide. Every inch of my skin feels like it has awoken from deep slumber and is taking in the cold all embracing ocean water. My ankles are achy. My heart is pounding. I hear my breathing, feeling its constraint and focus. As my head submerges it is overwhelmed by the liquid so icy it actually feels hot, testing my boundaries of pleasure and pain. I am fully immersed and without realising I find myself swimming. I find I have to move. I am swimming very fast, my natural response to the cold surrounds and trying to get warmer. It takes a good 3-4 minutes to settle, for my body to accept where it is and start to slow and experience the swim. My breathing has settled, my left arm stretching out my body rolling slightly following my arms lead, before starting to pull water under my body, my hand using the resistance it offers to propel me further. Right arm repeats and passes back to left. I feel the stretch across the length of my body all the way to my feet who are playing their own background beat. I feel them flex alternatively whipping the water in 3-4 rounds. All this, together, builds to a rhythm, a flow that I settle into. I start of notice other things now, like fluctuations in the temperature around me as I move from cold to warmer spots and back again. Like the water’s motion at the surface and below. Like the space between my body and the ocean floor, changes in light when the sun shines through. And then there is the ocean floor. It's changing landscape that keeps me aware and curious, in anticipation of pleasant surprises and humbly careful of others. I realise my state has changed. All the earlier sensations have changed and I find myself not only feeling warm, but experiencing a warmth like no other. One that is all around and deep within. As dopamine surges through my body, I find elation, happiness, love. I find myself.
Sunrise in the open water, Seaford, Vic
There is a space I find every time I immerse myself in open water. It is a quiet, self assured, kind, all knowing, deep space from which I can can just be and observe. A space where my human toils loose their hold on me and the world becomes the universe. I get to know this space, what it feels like, sounds like, smells like; and get to call on it again when I need it.
I call on it again when I journal. I can see what the water has taught me and I mine for words to describe what often feels indescribable. It has taught me to pause, to create space, to accept what unfolds around me for what it is. To surrender whatever mental constructs and beliefs I have. To trust. Trust what is within me and path I am on.